


The Kids Are All Right

by Enisy



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Family Dinners, Meet the Family, POV Outsider, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/pseuds/Enisy
Summary: Benjamin Sisko cannot hide his misgivings about his son’s choice of girlfriend. (Again.)
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko & Jake Sisko, Benjamin Sisko & Tora Ziyal, Jake Sisko/Tora Ziyal
Comments: 20
Kudos: 27
Collections: Star Trek Holidays 2020





	The Kids Are All Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



> Beta-read by the exceptional [Duinemerwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duinemerwen/pseuds/Duinemerwen).
> 
> [Ziyaltora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziyaltora/pseuds/Ziyaltora) drew [a beautiful rendition of this scene](https://spaceteenagers.tumblr.com/post/641887580245344256/before-he-could-come-up-with-an-answer-jake-was). Go check it out!

Sometimes, Sisko had the impression Jake did the things he did with the express purpose of messing with his old man.

It was an unfair thought. But looking at Gul Dukat’s daughter across the dinner table, Sisko thought it all the same.

 _Gul Dukat’s daughter_ : the words slung themselves across every corner of his mind, like darkly sequined, sinister festoons _._ People said Ziyal took after her mother, and perhaps Sisko would agree in any other circumstance. As it was, he could not see past _icy_ _eyes_ and _Cardassian ridges_ and _charming, full-toothed grin_ and dammit, Jake, what were you _thinking_?

“Dad made the same dish for my last girlfriend,” said Jake. His voice was canted in a love-drunk lilt that worried Sisko beyond measure. “I guess – I guess the warmth of his affection translates into _really_ spicy Earth recipes.”

The warmth of my affection, Sisko thought stewingly, or the heat of my exasperation?

No. Belay those musings. The girl was not to blame.

“Jake-o, haven’t I taught you anything?” he teased. “Date night is _not_ an appropriate time to talk about ex-girlfriends.”

His son rubbed the back of his neck. “Oops.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Sisko,” said Ziyal. The form of address was carefully chosen: she was keeping her distance. And, well, Sisko wasn’t in a hurry to correct her. “My mother cooked hasperat practically every week back on Bajor. I think my taste buds can hold out against this ‘shrimp Creole.’”

All right. This much seemed clear: like Mardah before her, Ziyal had picked up on his culinary aggression. The receiving end of her scrutiny was an awkward place to be; Sisko responded with a raised eyebrow.

She had the whole station convinced by her innocent, delicate aura, but he could peel back the flower petals and smell the nectar of _calculation_ and _secrecy_ and _mischief_ that bloomed in her father’s wake. He couldn’t care less about her Bajoran roots. Not right now: not where his son was concerned. The glass was half empty.

No wonder Jake had fallen for this old-Earth, Montague-and-Capulet crock. He’d always been a romantic. But he could still see reason. He should speak with Jake mano-a-mano after dinner – no, not after dinner, probably best to wait until tomorrow –

“Dad, you haven’t seen any of Ziyal’s drawings yet, have you?” Jake’s eyes lit up. “Wait. Let me fetch some. They will blow your _mind_ , I swear.”

Only a crash of footsteps and a clattering chair bore evidence to Jake’s departure. His puppy-dog enthusiasm would be cute if it wasn’t so terrifying.

“Why couldn’t it be a dabo girl?”

For several blissful seconds, Sisko assumed this to be part of his inner monologue: it gelled so well with the rest of his little grievances. But then, realization set in, and his heart rabbited. His mouth thinned. “ _What_?”

Ziyal had the grace to blush. On her fair complexion, the red left nothing to the imagination, as subtle as a sunset over the Yarvash Tundra. It was, he had to admit, kind of endearing. “ _Why couldn’t it be a dabo girl?_ ” Ziyal repeated. _“_ That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” She ducked her head, fiddling with her sleeve in a blatant display of Keeping Busy Without Doing Much of Anything. “I’m used to people talking behind my back, Mr. Sisko. I can make out the warning signs.”

Sisko said nothing.

“I can guess it’s uncomfortable having your son date a Cardassian – you being the Emissary and all – but I have no special motives. Promise. I haven’t even told anyone yet – anyone besides you and Nerys, that is. I just… well. I _lik_ _e_ him.”

“I…”

Before he could come up with an answer, Jake was galloping back to the table, arms laden with a bale of watercolor paper. He held the sheets out for Sisko’s inspection one by one, with exclamations of undisguised awe: _“Isn’t this great?”_ or _“_ _Talk about talent!”_ or simply _“Whoa!”_ Ziyal responded with a strained, watery smile.

Sisko had half-expected to be shown a portrait of his son, or a sketch of the happy couple: something cloying and sentimental to validate their love and thaw his cruel inhibitions. Sisko did not doubt that Ziyal had drawn such subject matter – probably more than once – but these were not the works Jake had brought over.

Instead, his son brandished an abstract painting of a flower, with an ascetic, volute style. There was something melancholy about it and something diffident, like it had taken root in a field of ashes. This was followed by a couple of etchings of Tora Naprem, where Ziyal’s needle had obviously doted on each nose wrinkle, and _oh_ , yes, he could see the resemblance now. Then, finally – the sight made him blanch for just a moment – sketch after sketch of Gul Dukat, in various formal and informal settings.

In a theme park, browsing the food stalls with feigned interest. On a runabout, chatting animatedly with Kira, who was sporting a very true-to-life, bemused grin. At the seaside, gazing up at the stars. In a Cardassian restaurant, with a plate already in front of him, perusing the digital catalog, probably in search of a dessert. At the replimat, playing a solo game of Kalevian Montar. Huh. Sisko had a set just like that one.

He did not have to look far to know why these, of all Ziyal’s drawings, had resonated with Jake.

Sisko glanced up from the imperious features of his counterpart, into Ziyal’s open, honest face – so much like a blank paper itself, ready to absorb other people’s ideas and statements. “They’re lovely,” he said, sincerely.

She was a little broken, wasn’t she? Her ship already dashed so often on the universe’s shoals and rocks. But then, the same could be said of his boy. As to whether a sculpture could be made out of those jagged, cutting pieces – well, he wouldn’t put it past her. She seemed to be quite the artist.

Now her smile was a brick of pure, unprocessed latinum. “Thank you, Mr. Sisko.”

Sisko didn’t correct her form of address this time, either. But he wanted to. He hoped he may get another opportunity.

Maybe as soon as next week.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [enisywrites](https://enisywrites.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come on over if you want to drop me a prompt or a question, or if you just want to say hi!


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